Today Chad and I drove across the wide open spaces of our part of Texas, sometimes chatting amiably, sometimes watching the scenery go by in silence. He spent time listening to speculation about his beloved Dallas Cowboys on sports radio while I dozed in the passenger seat. And at one point we spent a few minutes thinking and talking about our life and the interesting turns it has taken through the years. We never knew that we would wind up here, twenty years into our marriage, happily answering God’s call in our little town. Yet, here we are. God has been so gracious to bring us here where life is simple. The commute to anywhere in our town is four minutes. Trips to our local grocery store are bound to take awhile because there will be friends inside to talk to. Our world doesn’t revolve around money or cars, fashion or fancy houses. Our life here is beautiful and small and unique.

There is a certain simplicity to it. Yet, through the years we have learned just how complicated a pastor’s calling really is.

As people, Chad and I are irrevocably intertwined with others. We are likely to hear deep, dark secrets which we hold close, not even allowed to share many things with each other. We are entrusted with some of people’s most delicate admissions and live through some of their darkest hours with them. Our life is simple in so many ways. Yet, our life is about people, and people are anything but simple. We are complicated creatures filled with all kinds of surprising and delightful and shocking and sad secrets. Every room is at the same time a crowded collection of interpersonal struggles and warm friendships, family strife and sin struggles and amazing examples of God’s grace and mercy. As a pastor’s family, we get a front row seat to all of it.

I have seen Chad carry the heavy burden of failing marriages and sudden deaths, of children with no heat in the dead of winter. I have seen him try to be the ultimate problem solver while problem after problem is laid before him. I have heard his prayers for the many people on his heart and mind at midnight when he should be sleeping.

And while all of this is going on, still he wrestles with his own spiritual battles. Still he studies and tries to flee temptation and undertakes the difficult task of dealing with difficult people, precious people, kind people, and mean people, all while begging the Holy Spirit to keep him from sin. To give him the mind and eyes of Christ. Still he feels the weight of his next sermon, always bearing down no matter what else is happening in his life or the lives of those who need him at any given time.

These aren’t things that pastors can really talk about with the rest of us. They carry a unique load, and one that isn’t easily understood by those of us who don’t bear their responsibilities. It’s a complicated calling.

Chad and I thank God every day for this simple, complicated life. We thank Him for the complicated people who have been entrusted to our care, and we thank Him for the simple message of the gospel, which can cut through the most complicated of circumstances. One thing we have learned in these pastoring years is that every complicated situation really comes down to just one thing: we all need Jesus. Watching Him work in the middle of even the most difficult and crazy circumstances proves it to us over and over again–Jesus is the real problem solver. A simple truth for a complicated calling.

Like this:

The wedding ceremony was going to start in five minutes, and Chad and I were in his office, trying to quickly hash out an argument we had been stewing over since the night before. It was going to be difficult for him, the pastor, to go out there and deliver an inspiring wedding day talk if his own wife was glaring at him from the audience.

We hate fighting. We both apologized and I rested my cheek on his as we stood there in a familiar embrace, both really unsure how to resolve the situation except to just get over it. We agreed that we would, and we parted ways, still awkwardly upset, but determined to put it behind us.

By the time I gathered our kids and found my spot in the sanctuary, most of the wedding guests were already in their places. A side door opened, and in walked the groom and his groomsmen. Chad led them to their places, and as the wedding music started, he turned to look at me, and he grinned.

It was a grin that saw the humor in the fact that we had been arguing in his office two minutes earlier. That here, at a beautiful ceremony that celebrates love and thanks God for marriage, we were living proof that marriage will sometimes cause you to waste a whole day being angry at the person you love most. And, it was also a grin that knew that everything is really okay.

I’m thankful for a life in pastoral ministry. Many couples can go weeks or months or even years without ever facing the ways that they are sinning against each other. But, a pastor and his wife always have a Sunday morning or a Sunday evening or a Wednesday night coming. They always have a wedding ceremony or a funeral to prepare for. There is always a close and important reminder that we are trying to live according to God’s word. And, there is always an urgency to figure things out, to be friends, to rely on each other and to spur each other on to holiness and godliness.

After the wedding, we decided to load up the kids and take the minivan to a neighboring town for tacos. Chad reached over and grabbed my hand. We didn’t have to hash things out any longer. We had said what needed to be said in those rushed moments in his office. We had been heard. We had been forced to face the issues. And, we had been reminded, when we heard wedding vows repeated with happy tears, what a gift from God that this life really is.

I thank God that He gives us so many checkpoints along our path in ministry. Every sermon, every teaching, every ceremony–they all help us remember that we want to live what we are saying. God is always working, even two minutes before the wedding starts. And, I’m grateful.

Like this:

When Chad and I were first married, he drove a white Blazer with red vinyl interior. On the drive down the road to the little school where we taught, we mastered the art of keeping one foot on the brake and one on the gas, stopping when necessary, but still revving the engine so that it wouldn’t die. I still feel sentimental when I think about that car, remembering the nights we spent driving around, holding hands, so much freedom that we didn’t even recognize or appreciate. We were dead broke, but we were happy.

In the past sixteen years we have gone through a few cars. We had a few near death experiences. We had a few break ins. We had one night when I thought Chad was going to get shot over a CD player. I once drove a cute little sports car. Chad once drove a pretty little lawyer-mobile. Cars come and go, and every single one of them reminds me of great and hard and important and wonderful stages of our life together. In odd ways each one takes me back to little glimpses of God’s provision, His goodness, His care.

It’s funny how a big hunk of metal will do that to you.

And, this week, we got a big, burly, shiny, beautiful truck that will remind us of this time in our lives. Now, if you’ve been reading my blog for awhile you may be surprised to see me blogging about a shiny new truck. After all, I recently admitted that I take some sort of twisted pride in driving my trusty old peeling paint minivan. She is crusty, and I love her.

But this truck is more than just a really pretty piece of machinery. It’s a symbol of all the ways, big and small, that God blesses through His people.

It wasn’t until Chad became a pastor that I realized that there is a ministry in the church that I never knew existed. It’s not for everyone (I was certainly never good at it), and it’s not something that is broadcast or pointed out very often. But, our church has taught us that there are people who feel a very real calling to minister to their pastor and his family. Different people have lots of different loving, thoughtful ways to bless us. It’s amazing how creative people are. How much they are always thinking, anticipating what we might need or want or enjoy.

And, one day a friend called Chad up and casually said, Hey, a group of people in the church are going to buy you a truck. And, on Friday night, while the kids waited, giggling in the driveway, the truck arrived, in all its manly, west Texas glory.

I could cry at the thought of it. Not because we have a beautiful new vehicle that is the nicest car we have ever owned (although we do), not because the kids can’t wait for school drop off tomorrow in the huge hunk of man-mobile (although they can’t), but because that amazing gift sitting in our garage is a showing of how precious the people of God are. How generous. How giving. And, how much pleasure that they take in giving until it hurts, just to say to their pastor, we support you.

Last week, a dear lady made us a pecan pie, as she regularly does. It’s the best pecan pie I’ve ever tasted. Another friend has us over to dinner or brings us dinner here and there, just so that I won’t have to worry about it. One amazing woman walks up every once in awhile and presses two $20 bills in Chad’s hand. I could write thousands of words about how God’s people send notes of encouragement, text sweet thoughts, send flowers, give hugs. It’s just hard to even explain how far each and every kind word, sweet thought, and blessed gift goes in encouraging us, in helping us to see that God is near, and that He can use all of us, if we are open to His leading. I want to be more like the amazing examples in our church, those who never fail to see where the needs are and do all they can to meet those needs, even if it comes at great personal cost to them.

God’s people are simply wonderful.

It’s only a car. I know it. But, I’ll never forget the kindness behind it. The love. And the willingness to serve God by greatly blessing someone else. This truck will always remind me of this wonderful time in our life, loving our sweet church and being so well loved in return. God never fails to surprise us. He is so good, whether the paint is peeling or the topcoat is gleaming.

I’m so grateful for all of His undeserved gifts, and for the people who are so faithful to deliver them.

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About Melissa

My husband Chad and I have been married for 19 years, and we have had all kinds of adventures, from our days in Music City with his rock band, to teaching junior high school in classrooms right next door to each other, to law school and the attorney life, to incredible years watching God work in churches where we have served…